It Suits You
by shaping-up-to-be-pretty-ood
Summary: The Doctor takes care of River after finding her on the verge on death, and it scares him more than he wants to let her see.


"River, if you're not careful, you'll get yourself killed doing this," the Doctor commented softly as he carefully stitched the large gash across his wife's back. "And I wish you had just let me heal it with energy."

"It's a waste. If you use too much your next regeneration will be violent and three times as painful. You told me what happened the last time, all because you healed that Dalek shot. And during the regeneration you proceeded to blow up the inside of the TARDIS and crash land in my mother's garden in 1996." She grimaced slightly as he pulled his last suture tight enough that it would hold. "The anaesthetic is starting to wear off."

"Yep, that's a part Time Lord part human metabolism for you. In reality we're lucky that it even worked at all, given that it seems you're more Time Lord than human." He kissed the top of her head when she winced and groaned as a result of his stitching. "Now you get to tell me how this happened, dear."

"I was kidnapped by Sycorax."

"Because...?"

"Because I was looking around the ancient ruins of their city for the records of you that were sent from that ship Torchwood blew up."

"How do you know about that?" He sounded incredulous, but in all honesty he wasn't so surprised that she had found out.

"I knew Harriet Jones." Her voice was quiet. She knew just what a touchy subject that was for him, so she decided to continue her Sycorax story. "I tried the rules of combat, but they didn't seem inclined to follow them. I was holding my own against the leader, but then another attacked me from behind. I only just managed to teleport out when I got the message to you." There a was a pause. "And I didn't even get my information!"

"I can tell you about it."

She scoffed. "It's nice to hear both sides of a story and not just the victor's. Archaeologist, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." He put a bandage over the wound on the off chance that she ripped her stitches, so she wouldn't be on the verge of bleeding out like she had been when he had found her slumped against a wall in some 2078 Canadian alleyway just hours before. When she carefully made to stand up, he held her shoulders and ensured she stayed sitting. "Don't ever do that to me again, Melody Pond," he said sternly, looking directly into her eyes. "Don't."

"You're using my birth name, you must be worried."

"Worried?" he growled. "I found you sitting in a puddle of your own blood and nearly unconscious. Worried is an understatement. I thought you were going to die."

"But I'm fine now, Doctor. I'm alright, just need some time to heal."

"Why don't you take your own mortality as seriously as I do? You can't regenerate again, River, if you die that's it."

"I don't take it as seriously as you do because I know you'll always be there to save me!"

The Doctor took a step back to stare at River, eyes wide. That was not what he was expecting her to say, although he wasn't sure what he _was_ expecting. His arms dropped to his sides and River broke her gaze away from him, instead looking at the infirmary floor. _But you won't,_ a broken little voice whispered in the back of his head. _She'll stop you from doing it._

And that hurt to think about.

"Come on," he whispered, taking one of her hands and kissing her cheek delicately. "I need to get you to bed, you've lost a lot of blood and you need your sleep. And don't worry, I won't leave as soon as you fall asleep to work on the console, I promise. Maybe we could try our hand at being all domestic-y, eh? The most feared man in the universe and his Time Lord wife, not swanning off on dangerous adventures but instead having a nice week in."

"It sounds lovely dear, but can I get some clothes to wear first? At least a shirt. Out of sight and out of mind, I don't want you worrying about me anymore than you already are."

"Of course." Jerkily he took off his jacket and bowtie, and slipped the braces off his shoulders. After a few minutes of fighting with the buttons, he helped River into his shirt, not even bothering to button the front. "It suits you, sweetheart."

"Only wearing my underthings and your shirt... This does seem to happen a lot, I must admit. Although, the shirt doesn't really go with this blue," she laughed, gesturing towards her bra.

"Anything looks good on you," he muttered, leading her out of the infirmary.

**A/N: It's come to my attention that I use the Doctor thinking about River's death quite often. But honestly, don't you think he would? He feels incredible guilt about it from what we've seen, and it obviously pains him to be reminded of it. If you think that a part of him isn't thinking about her death every time he simply looks at her, then maybe my River/11 fics aren't right for you. _**


End file.
